<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>bridges by jVnKy30MkVn</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24591919">bridges</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jVnKy30MkVn/pseuds/jVnKy30MkVn'>jVnKy30MkVn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pentagon (Korea Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, idk what else to tag it as, me just venting i suppose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:39:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24591919</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jVnKy30MkVn/pseuds/jVnKy30MkVn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>❝All bridges connecting this drab, gloomy island to the bright and happy mainland have been burnt.❞</p><p> </p><p>In which a shut-in begins to leave letters to the moon, waiting for a reply that comes by a river's current and dead tree leaves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adachi Yuto/Jung Wooseok</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. birds in cages: prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>originally posted on wattpad 12/04/20-28/05/20</p><p>idk what im doing but it's going to be angsty bros<br/>i should therefore warn you there will be mentions of suicide and such<br/>as i've said in other works: not glorifying it, just venting</p><p>chapters with a dash in the title will be short whilst those without will be long</p><p>hope it ends up alright<br/>thanks for reading</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's silent, so silent one could hear the one leaf that rustled, the timid whisper of a breeze that carried itself through dead branches outside the curtained window, the hushed murmurs of lost ghosts that lingered in the bland walls, forlorn, questioning, asking, <em>Why? Why are you here?</em> and he had no answer. It was always the same. It had always been that way. It was impossible to change.</p><p>A room so bare and sombre, weak lights illuminating the larger parts and shrouding the rest in a frightful darkness; shelves of books, stacks of vinyl and CD's, paint splattered like blood at a crime scene, the smell that stuck to every object being one of closure, humidity, dread.</p><p>The beam overhead sneered at the human's pathetic glance of longing, tauntingly remaining still and high above the ground. Had he had some rope, he could tie a noose, but what wishful thinking that was, to imagine he had the courage to put his head through such a hole again. No matter how much he wished for it, he refused to believe it could be so easy.</p><p>His eyes swiftly swept downwards, falling upon his chest of drawers topped with most of the items he had struggled to obtain in a pitiful search for happiness, but of course such happiness was fleeting, and with or without them he remained the same: a prisoner of his own volition, hiding in the corrosive embrace of the four walls that kept growing closer, shrinking in around him until he could hardly inhale without sputtering a cough.</p><p>It was silent, the kind one has when utterly alone, the kind that allows one to torment oneself, the kind that is akin to that of a cemetery beneath the moonlight: eerie, suffocating, deafening.</p><p>He refused to do anything. Nothing could change.</p><p>It was like this, you see: a busy road, with buildings on both sides of it. The sun graces one half with its warmth, while the other remains in the frigid shadows. He was on the side of the shadows, watching as the world carelessly strutted by on the sidewalk opposite him, bright in colours and boisterous in sound. Should he want to reach the other side, he would have to cross, but the cars and trucks would never stop driving, constantly chopping his view of the other side, constantly teasing him with what he could have but wouldn't. One step onto the tarmac and he'd be squashed, run over like the miniscule creature he was, a bug smeared against a window pane, an ant beneath the sole of a shoe. So he's stuck on the dark side, looking into the light, and it was an irrefutable fact that seemed to be unchanging.</p><p>The beam was still there, still waiting － as it had the other three times he had attempted to hang himself from it like a coat on a hanger, one song left on repeat and playing loudly so that he wouldn't have to hear his own choking and mewling, his own raspy breaths before the last. No, he'd rather have a song playing instead.</p><p>It had happened that the first time he attempted, a fragment of himself still wished to stay, deluded by the possibility of change. The second time he attempted, his knot slipped loose and he crashed to the floor, neck sore, knees throbbing and a wrist fractured. The third time he'd attempted, he was closer to death than he could have ever dreamed possible － then a knock on his apartment door, his landlord or maybe a neighbour, merely inquisitive at first and then becoming frantic at his lack of response but strange sounds.</p><p>
  <em>Please. Please. Another minute, just some seconds.</em>
</p><p>Tears had begun to well in his eyes, fingers still clawing against his own true volition at the rope fastened around his neck, and then the front door was opened and a panicked shriek was released. Neighbour it was, though he couldn't fathom why.</p><p>He was saved, but for what reason?</p><p>Half a year went by and the neighbour moved away. Whether somebody else had taken over their apartment, he didn't know. Now he only went out in the heart of the night, when nobody would see him and he wouldn't have to see anyone. He'd talk to anything he'd see: the stray cat, the lampposts he'd pass, the trees he'd greet, and the moon he'd ramble on to.</p><p>The moon was always there, always listening, always watching － the sole depository of Yuto's hope.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. －01</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It somehow seemed frail, delicate in its essence and worn down by the breeze that tugged at it, almost as if pleading for a dance along the river the tree gazed upon. The wind nipped, licked, pulled at the scarf loosely wrapped around his slender neck the way it did at the odd envelope that looked back at him in the eye, tempting him to reach out and pick it off the cracked bark timidly illuminated by the afternoon sun nestled behind impenetrable clouds. </p><p>Wooseok's head tilted inquisitively － he must have appeared strange to on-lookers, curiously staring at some lone tree in a desolate park － and then his hand clad in a fingerless glove lifted, tentatively tore the letter off from the tape and flipped the top open.</p><p>dear moon, <br/>send help. the vultures are feasting on the visions of my mind and i can no longer see. do you still see everything from up there? <br/>_y </p><p>An eyebrow cocked on automatic, a hum sounded from within his throat, and then an edge of his lips turned upwards in a baffled smile. Though the words ineffably jostled something within him, he supposed it was a joke of some sort; all the same, maybe he should keep the letter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. －02</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was there again, he realised between the black twirls of his hair that the air carried before his sight, the lone letter with a lone strip of white tape holding it to the whithering tree, drained by the chill arriving with autumn and soothed by the strained warmth of the day star.</p><p>The previous letter was still in his black hoodie's pocket, untouched and mostly unthought of since the time he plucked it as though it were a mysterious flower by a country road, but the scribbled phrases instantly returned to mind once he saw this new one, less damaged at the edges and not as wrinkled － this probably due to the duller wind.</p><p>He approached it with no hesitancy, hands in his cargo pants' pockets, one earphone playing the suave tune of a song by a new singer he had come across and in his ear, whilst the other dangled and softly thumped against his chest with each step he took.</p><p>Wooseok's irises drank in the appearance of the note for a mere instant prior to sliding the slip of paper it held out, turning it in his fingers so that the words read clearly.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear moon,</em>
    <br/>
    <em>i can't breathe. fog surrounds me and i'm stumbling in a darkness so deep i don't think i can ever leave. why doesn't your light reach me? </em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>His expression screwed into one of slight bitterness, confusion dotting his typically bright, large eyes and twisting his pink, pursed lips. He read the note another time, and then another; and then he was glancing around as if to make sure that only his eyes were witness to its vulnerability before he folded it and tucked it into the safety of his trousers.</p><p>As though it were above him and awaiting his call, he looked to the blue sky consumed by grey and mist, briefly wondering if the moon were truly willing to listen at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. －03</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wooseok admittedly didn't care much for walks in the brisk temperatures of nearing winter nor for going out alone, and yet whilst before he only took the longer path home through the park about thrice a week, he found himself steering right when he could keep going straight with his step more often than he even took into account.</p><p>The letters had begun to attract him to themselves like a negative force does to a positive, the river being the whispering guide which gave words of encouragement or of warning － he couldn't really tell.</p><p>Despite his pondering mind and lofty mood, he found himself before the messenger tree in under a few minutes, and a sense of uncomfortable eagerness brewed with concern filled him.</p><p>Fingertips cold, they picked at the letter, and then it was in his warm palms, held with somewhat care, considering its current state after that morning's feeble rain.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear moon, </em>
    <br/>
    <em>it keeps happening. i keep getting the urge to rip my insides out, to claw at my skin in the hopes it would shred like fine paper into nothingness. do you think i'm going insane?</em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>Wooseok wanted to reply with <em>no, maybe you just need to let yourself be freer, fight against what's chaining you down to the ground you hate so much</em>; but he was not the moon and he could not speak in his place, so all he did was put the note back within the barrier of its envelope and into the heat of his parka's pocket.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. －04</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Had it become a sort of duty for the twenty-three-year-old to visit that same park every fortnight? It genuinely seemed so, much to Wooseok's own befuddlement, and truly he did his best to not think about his own actions for too long.</p><p>The scant letters he had garnered thus far were sat on his bedside table, being read and reread in the late hours of the night when he couldn't sleep and decided to envision what their writer could possibly be like. Were they perhaps a young girl or a middle-aged man facing a midlife crisis? Maybe a woman who had gone off her rocker or a teenage boy looking for someone to fool.</p><p>Words analysed, Wooseok was quite certain it wasn't written by anybody too juvenile, but with regards to gender and motive, he had no clear indication. The letters were vague at most, often riddled with metaphors as if meant to not be always understood, and the man questioned whether this were a deliberate trait of theirs or not.</p><p>He'd returned to the park after four days of avoiding it, no longer capable of merely letting this whole ordeal slide by. Upon reaching the shrivelling tree, he noted the fact that in place of one letter, there were two, one placed below the other.</p><p>He opted to go for the higher one, presuming it to be the older one, and then kept the other in his left hand as he read.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear moon,</em>
    <br/>
    <em>help me. help me, damn it. i can't see you on nights when clouds loom and yet i know you're there. please don't hide from the world. if you do, who else will give light during the night? </em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>He blinked. Help? With what? If he could, Wooseok would ask the writer what it was that tormented him, what pushed him to sending letters out into the void towards an uncaring moon. Wooseok would ask so many things, outstretch a strong hand to whomever needed it, but he worried he'd never get the chance to.</p><p>The second letter was less frantic in its aura, merely pensive and near defeated, but Wooseok believed it to be better than desperate.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear moon,</em>
    <br/>
    <em>the trails are intertwining and the signs point in opposing directions. which am i meant to pursue, if any at all?</em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. －05</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear moon, </em>
    <br/>
    <em>i believe somebody keeps taking my notes from you. where they used to fall, protected in the nearby bushes, i now can't spot them anywhere. if you're reading this, stranger, who are you?</em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Wooseok should have assumed he would be eventually caught. Did this _y person always simply let the letters accumulate until they tiredly dropped to the floor? At being directly addressed, he felt exposed, somehow caught red-handed, even if who he was was as much of a mystery as the writer was to him.</p>
</div><p><br/>He couldn't bring himself to leave a reply, instead he pocketed the note as he did with all those before them. The black-headed male began to worry that he had truly invaded somebody's privacy, overstepped into something that had absolutely nothing to do with him and that never would have had he not taken the lower pathway beside the river instead of the one on the higher level nearer to the road.</p><p>Even so, now he was in it, tangled in the fine threads of this unexpected situation, and he didn't want to leave without making himself useful in someway. Being of help was, ironically, the only method of repayment for having been nosey, he believed, and if the moon wouldn't do it then he would.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. －06</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Initially he had hoped that the writer would acknowledge his existence, and then proceed to ignore him if he never replied. Much to Wooseok's abashment though, that was not the case.</p><p>_y began to speak to him directly then, and of course, being true to that streak of timidity and embarrassment that ran through his character like a coloured vein in a slab of marble, he couldn't find it in him to respond.</p><p>The letter the following fortnight read:</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear moon &amp; stranger, </em>
    <br/>
    <em>it seems i must begin my letters as such now. whoever you are, why do you hide when you've already witnessed so much of myself? do you believe it's fair?</em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>And no, when _y puts it like that it doesn't sound fair, but Wooseok didn't know how to break this comfortable barrier of complete anonymity between them without coming off as a creep or incredibly awkward, and first impressions are important, right? Though he supposed his first impression had already been made.</p><p>He huffed a heavy breath and hurriedly pushed the envelope into his pants' pockets, not bothering about its corners folding over or its centre wrinkling.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. －07</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wooseok's thoughts were as tumultuous as the new born winter waves, rolling one way and then another, swallowed up by the next. He'd decide on feigning ignorance with regards the lonely presence of the letters that would be stuck to their tree whether he picked them off or not, and then he'd decide to not back away from the unknown and do what he could to be a presence of comfort.</p><p>He'd take a step toward the notes, and then spin on his heels, going along the higher pathway to avoid having to walk past them, as if their eyes would follow him as he crossed and their flapping edges would cry to him to be held.</p><p>On one afternoon he conquered his reluctance to see them and was surprised to find a sole, rectangular piece of white against a deep brown that blackened in spots. Wooseok couldn't help but wonder if the tree were sick.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear moon,</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>he read, in that usual writing that varied between rough scribbles and tranquil strokes,</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>i want to drown in the river you illuminate so sweetly. i want its water to gradually pull my flesh from my bones, until i'm nothing but a clean frame of what my body is, down on the riverbed's pebbles and soil. </em>
    <br/>
    <em>stranger,</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>his stomach churned, his jaw tensed,</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>if you're reading this, do you come and go by the tide at the moon's will?</em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>He would have replied that maybe he did. Perhaps this was all occurring at the hands of a higher force, possibly a god, possibly the moon, but Wooseok didn't believe in anything more than luck and would occassionally spoil himself with the scant ponderings of a destiny written for all of them, so he doubted either of the two former were plausible. </p>
</div><p><br/>He huffed, his breath coming out as vapour in the fresh air that pricked within his hot lungs, causing frost to line his throat. Again, the letter was taken with him and again the writer was left with no reply; but Wooseok found himself more worrying than thinking.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. －08</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear moon, </em>
    <br/>
    <em>my body is frustratingly limiting. i feel so caged within my self. i've been reflecting on my work, and perhaps it's not as good as he made me believe. do you understand why he left me?</em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>For the first time, the note exposed a part of _y's life and the clue almost made Wooseok giddy. A girl perhaps? One who was left by her boyfriend and was now looking for a source of relief from the letters she sent to space. What about her work? He wasn't sure which job she could have － always assuming the person was indeed female.</p><p>A sensation of being closer to some big reveal, and yet just as far, burned at his fingertips and stung behind his reading eyes. Then again, this character could be a brother, father, friend － maybe he hadn't really inched nearer to a truth after all.</p><p>It was a sense of frustrated longing that overcame him then, the desperate, clawing urge to help and hold, offer whatever love and comfort he had within him to this person. He could only hope he would have the opportunity to do so.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. －09</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wooseok found his feet to be walking embarrassingly quickly to the tree the following night, barely hearing their constant drag and tap over the rushing of the river and the raging wind against his ears.</p><p>He didn't believe in signs from forces outside of his perception, but the chill brought his jaw to chatter and his fingers to quiver, his nose stinging red and his scalp prickling with ice, as though the world were telling him to squash this desire to see what each letter held and return home, where everything was warm and known.</p><p>When his milk-dipped fingertips took hold of the envelope that brashly flapped in the wind, he let out a breath, the cloud that formed and faded just as soon, mimicking his relief that dissipated into tension.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear stranger, </em>
    <br/>
    <em>if you're going to keep reading my private letters then at least tell me your name. </em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y </em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>Wooseok supposed it was about time － he'd come prepared, after all. And so, skittishly extracting the pencil he'd tucked into his coat's pocket, he turned the piece of paper over, pressed it against the tree's rough bark and wrote:</p><p></p><div>
  <p><em>they're not so private if you keep taping them to a random tree in the town park, honestly.</em><br/><em>call me</em> <em>[w]</em></p>
</div><p><br/>From that note on, they're conversation flowed down the steady passage of rising moons and falling suns, nights surpassing one another yet leaving a trail of scribbled words by different hands.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear w, </em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>The next letter began, causing a curl to force its way onto Wooseok's bitten lips and to jumpstart his tepid heart.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>you make a fair point, but considering people's lack of interest in things around them, nobody had bothered reading my letters for the past year until you. </em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>He had previously decided that the short, nicked pencil would always be on his person so that he could respond to the letters that were then being addressed to him rather than the moon. He idly wondered if he had taken the place of something so far and luminous, but was resignatedly quite certain he could only be equivalent to a comet, fleeting and hardly present enough to leave any trace.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>your letters always looked lonely</em>
    <br/>
    <em>[w]</em>
  </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. －10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The pile of opened envelopes on his bedside table grew at a slower pace, but it was when his mind was of lead and his mood was trampled that he'd pick the miniscule secrets they held out, and read them beneath the combination of the yellow light of his lamp and the white sheen offered gingerly by the moon.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear w, </em>
    <br/>
    <em>did they? i guess paper is more expressive than i believed it to be. please consider leaving my notes alone, i can't write anymore knowing that you read what i send to the moon.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>It was the last letter he had received, words that truncated his odd happiness of having been sent a message just moments prior.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>i'm sorry. </em>
  </p>
</div><p>He sincerely wrote after an instance of contemplation,</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>you just seem like you need a friend. i would like to be who you need. </em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>Then he paused, mulled the inquiry over and hurriedly jotted it down before he could regret it.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>what is the moon to you?</em>
    <br/>
    <em>[w]</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The subsequent response to his note was as chilled as the river's water, cold enough to dim the flame that burned and licked at his own heart and bring to him a sense of guilt.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear w,</em>
    <br/>
    <em>maybe i do, maybe i don't, but how would you know? i don't think everybody needs someone, some people are simply better off alone. </em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>why do you ask that? maybe i'll tell you when</em>
    <br/>
    <em>we one day meet.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>An almost flippant and dismissive statement, but Wooseok eagerly clutched onto it with a selfish, hungry need for answers and a selfless desire to be of aid. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>does that mean you want to see me directly? name a time and place and i'll be there. i want to know what goes through your head. (as long as you're not a serial killer or something)</em>
    <br/>
    <em>[w]</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear w, </em>
    <br/>
    <em>i'm pretty sure the only things i've ever killed were others' faith in me and flies; but then again those things are probably the most irritating of bugs to exist.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>here, by this tree, tuesday night, 10:00 p.m</em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>you have a point. i'll see you tomorrow then, y</em>
    <br/>
    <em>[w]</em>
  </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. 11: ghost's shadow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a little over a month, night walks sporadically adorned with crumpled letters, and Wooseok still knew nothing of who he had been speaking to. Something was alluring and pleading about the tight, small handwriting the writer masked themselves behind, and though his mind was reeling with countless scenarios in which the story ended horribly, he bitterly found himself far too knotted in the stitched thread around his every limb and thought.</p><p>His parka was zipped to his chin, his hood over the black beanie on his head that tucked away his hair of the same colour, and his jeans were nestled into the tight embrace of his biker boots that crunched the uneven ground beneath them. The world was dark, silent, not a soul that breathed or a shadow that twitched, but the snow that fell steadily from the clouded sky, twirled around him almost jovially, dotted his shoulders and adorned the rims of his shoes. </p><p>Wooseok blinked against the ice, tired eyes squinted as he neared the river that had partially frozen over in the low temperature － and there there was a figure that loomed eerily just over the water's edge, squatting perilously near to the end of solid land, close to the same tree he had been walking towards. </p><p>The silhouette was balled and blurred, Wooseok could hardly decipher anything that wasn't directly struck by the moon's glow, nonetheless something reared its head within him and he was jogging towards the person sitting so still, metres away. </p><p>The sound of his heavy footfall and deep breaths did not urge, the one he came to understand was male, to look up at him, and he set his head askew, slightly miffed. He came to realise with shock that said man wore hardly enough clothing to contrast the freezing wind that surely nipped at his exposed flesh and burned his purple-tinted veins. </p><p>That which covered his skeletal frame was nothing more than of a sole, monochromatic palette of no colour, a simple hoodie and jeans, badly tied sneakers that were cracked at the rubber borders on his feet. His hair was long enough to be put into a ponytail and to be whisked by the air's invisible force, likewise being with the two locks of hair that dangled from the sides of his face. </p><p>Wooseok didn't know how to attract his attention. Abruptly, words were failing him and the atmosphere was tense and shrivelled by something ineffable. He shifted on his feet and then joined the other at his side, squatting down to too look into the lifeless water. He took a furtive peek at the other's profile: straight-bridged nose, full bottom lip, eyelashes long as the irises behind them were shut off from the world. </p><p>He gulped, dry throat beginning to ache. </p><p>"Y?" </p><p>The man exhaled, blinked his eyes open and then directed them onto Wooseok, causing the latter to almost startle. </p><p>"My name's Yuto."</p><p>His voice was astoundingly deep, Korean accented by a foreign language, and his gaze was as vividly dead as that of the tree he'd left his letters on.</p><p>"I'm Wooseok," His hand twitched within his pocket to reach out and shake that of Yuto, but he felt it to be out of place for them somehow and refrained, choosing to offer a polite smile instead. "It's nice to meet you."</p><p>"I doubt it," Came Yuto's instantaneous response, a wry smile of his own forming upon his dim-coloured lips, "It's not the best weather to meet up in."</p><p>"And you're hardly dressed appropriately for it at all," Wooseok said just as quickly, a tint of worry to his words that made Yuto sigh. </p><p>"It doesn't matter." </p><p>They then fell into silence, the wind rustling dead branches and pushing at their crouched forms, as if urging them into the gelid water.</p><p>"The moon is my friend, a companion who stays by my side even when the sun's light threatens to hide it," Yuto's melliflous voice cut through the wails and shouts of the nature around them, and Wooseok's ears honed in solely on its sound, "The moon listens and the moon cries with me, it's a jewel in an infinite ocean of darkness, a breath of oxygen in a life of suffocation."</p><p>Again, a prolonged pause, one during which Wooseok did his best to comprehend what he'd been so suddenly told.</p><p>"I was answering your question," Yuto spoke up, halting his train of thought, "You asked me what the moon is to me and I told you I would say so when we met. We've met."</p><p>Wooseok hurriedly nodded. </p><p>"We － We have."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. 12: cold bones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wooseok couldn't sleep. His bed was warm, his pillow was soft, and though his eyelids were weighted with exhaustion, the moment he'd blink he'd see the void face of the man he'd met that night; Yuto, smiling so falsely at him beneath the moon's glow.</p><p>His guts twisted and jolted, the man's aura somehow having lodged itself into every fibre of his being and now unwilling to let him rest.</p><p>Frustrated and tired of his own senseless wondering, he sat up in his bed, ignoring the way it almost petulantly whined, and reached for the letters he'd by then read over dozens of times. Perhaps he could recite them word for word.</p><p>His lengthy, bony fingers itched at the nape of his neck and then dragged over his skin, clasping the lean muscle over his collarbone on the right side. Nonchalantly he skimmed through the notes, as he typically did when he couldn't sleep, but doing so offered no help that night and he merely found himself recalling the rest of his first meeting with the writer of said messages.</p><p>Yuto was strange, from what he'd perceived thus far. After having their brief conversation, they simply sat in complete silence, Wooseok suffering at the hands of what he took to be awkward tension, and the former utterly calm, unbothered. They sat for a long while, enough that Wooseok's hefty parka could no longer keep him warm and Yuto's own body seemed close to giving in; his lips had then gone pale and blue, every inch of him shivering, yet he stubbornly ignored it and watched the snow as it cascaded around them.</p><p>There had been questions Wooseok had been dying to ask since they'd begun talking, and yet no time felt right to speak until he grew far too concerned for Yuto's well-being.</p><p>"Let's go," He murmured with a tremulous voice, "We'll both end up as icicles if not."</p><p>The added statement brought a humoured huff out of Yuto who nodded, hands quivering so terribly that they could hardly sustain his weight as he pushed himself onto his feet.</p><p>Once standing adjacent to one another, Wooseok tucked the lower half of his face behind the high collar of his parka, eyes drifting down to watch as a miniature snowflake landed on his left boot.</p><p>"Wooseok."</p><p>His name being called for the first time by the other startled him, brought pink to his already cherry-tinted cheeks, and he lifted his head.</p><p>"I'm going."</p><p>The taller's shoulders minimally sagged, a moment to gather himself and then he was fervently nodding, remaining mute as Yuto offered a lopsided smile and turned away, sneakers leaving their imprint on the hardening snow that dutifully coated the bricks beneath.</p><p>He regretted it now, not saying anything. He would have liked to ask the other a handful of questions that then tormented his drained mind, maybe he could have suggested even going to grab something hot to eat together.</p><p>It was that idea that seared his insides with a determination unyielding, urging him to visit the tree by the river two nights later and leave a letter of his own taped to it. He couldn't deny the sting of disappointment that sparked at not having found one already there. Perhaps after meeting him Yuto decided he'd rather end whatever connection they had. Wooseok then felt guilty for having forcibly separated the former from his safe haven but, for however small the chances were, he went through with his original mission and left his note pressed to the withering tree's bark.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>hey yuto, i'd like to talk with you better. would you like to meet at seo's late-night diner this monday? </em>
    <br/>
    <em>[w]</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>With the note securely tucked within the arms of its envelope, he patted it almost as though for good luck and left it stuck to the tree. Undeniably he had then been anxiously anticipating a reply all through the hours until he could visit again, and once he was finally shrouded in darkness and harassed by the cold temperatures of night, he took off down to the riverside with quick steps once more.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>it's alright with me, </em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>Was what he first read upon opening the response letter, permitting him to breathe easy,</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>tomorrow night then, here. same time as when we first met. </em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>At 10:00? So much for his sleep schedule, he thought with minimally pursed lips. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. 13: crushed rubies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You're here."</p><p>Wooseok's heart twitched with surprise.</p><p>"Of course I am," He replied, words lilting with slight befuddlement.</p><p>He had yet to sit beside the other but Yuto had known it was him, dead gaze set upon the running water, shoulders hardly rising with his timid breaths. Wooseok looked at him as he lowered himself onto the ground, patting out the fine layer of snow around him for a lack of anything to do that would spur on a conversation.</p><p>He had so much to ask, so much he wanted to know, but when his irises drank in the sight of glowing skin and bleeding lips, all thoughts temporarily seized.</p><p>His pulse quickened, oddly fearful of speaking and ruining whatever tranquil state they had instantly found themselves in: a state of static, the constant hush of the river becoming white noise to ears that scarcely listened.</p><p>"You －" He lifted a hand, tapping his index finger against his own bottom lip, chapped from the brisk wind, "You're bleeding."</p><p>Wooseok tried his best to not appear hurt when Yuto turned to him as if his presence had already been forgotten, bleak pupils meeting those that dilated, his movements mimicking those of the other and touching his mouth, only to remove his hand and glance at his pale, trembling fingertip stained with a ruby red.</p><p>He looked at the pearl of blood with a disinterested stare prior to proceeding to lick it off with a quick swipe of his tongue, seemingly uncaring of Wooseok's marginally furrowing brows. The taller watched in silence as Yuto licked at the cuts in his lip again, lapping away any trace of blood until his flesh was merely a shade redder than usual and glistening as though studded with gems.</p><p>"I bite my lips a lot," He eventually said, voice languid and monotonous, "The cuts get worse with the cold."</p><p>Wooseok hummed, though after a moment of hesitancy, and then shifted upon the ground, feeling the wetness of the snow seep through his jeans and chill his skin, causing a pain akin to that of countless needle pricks going into his thighs. He ignored it, looked to the motionless brunet at his side and then to the moon.</p><p>He steeled himself, gloved hands in his lap clenching around each other.</p><p>"Did you stop writing letters because of me?" He attempted a furtive glance at the man but hurriedly snapped his sight back to the comfort that was the starred sky when he found Yuto to be already staring directly at him. "To the － To the moon, I mean."</p><p>Wooseok felt that his diffidence was quite pathetic, and it only increased when the silence prolonged. His teeth went to gnaw on his lip just as his right hand lifted to tug at the scarf around his neck, but his actions were halted when a whisper drifted towards him, faint and feeble, but there.</p><p>"Don't," Yuto said, tired eyes strained on Wooseok's mouth that was dangerously close to being abused, "You don't want to end up like me. It hurts."</p><p>At the words of warning, Wooseok apprehensively obeyed, shutting his jaw and roughly sniffing as an excuse to break away his held gaze with the male. Yuto's eyes were vacant, an abandoned home in a city of ghosts, but they were terrifyingly intense, enough to hold Wooseok's heart in an iron grip and cause a tsunami of ineffable sensations to override his every rational thought. Wooseok couldn't comprehend whether he was scared or intrigued by the other; possibly both.</p><p>"Then why do you do it?" He forced out, almost rebelliously.</p><p>He never received an answer to either of his questions, so he casted a sideways look to the brunet who blinked at him with a deadpan expression, features stitched into nothingness. Yuto then peered down at the river, almost as if it were a new sight and one of curiousity.</p><p>"Aren't you feeling cold?" Wooseok found himself asking, wary of the silence and longing to go somewhere where the river would no longer hold Yuto's attention more than he did. It was, of course, a pointless thing to ask.</p><p>"Do you know the phrase, <em>'No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man'</em>?"</p><p>Yuto remained fixated on the glittering trail as Wooseok nodded, dipping his head to also look into the surface that reflected the night sky, stars and moon, trying so desperately to capture its beauty.</p><p>"It's true, really. During the moments between when the man enters the river the first and second time, he has somehow changed, perhaps had a new thought, and the river's water has already slipped away, replenished. We can't repeat things exactly as they were, we can't relive them."</p><p>He paused, contemplative.</p><p>"Have you ever thought about going into the river? Maybe not to come out again, but to let the water change you into whatever way it deems fit. I would like to be changed, made into something better."</p><p>"You've written about going in."</p><p>It wasn't a question but a sure statement, for Wooseok had consumed and absorbed every phrase scribbled on the letters he'd taken, and he suddenly felt abashed for having said it aloud.</p><p>Yuto let out a huff of a laugh, but his mouth was unsmiling and his arms remained fastened around the knees he'd pulled to his chest.</p><p>"Have I?"</p><p>Wooseok briefly held his reply in before a quiet, "Yeah," tumbled from his lips.</p><p>A beat of silence.</p><p>"So, what's your answer?" The brunet asked, eyes finally drifting to the male adjacent to him, "Have you ever thought about it?"</p><p>Admittedly, Wooseok wasn't sure what the question meant nor what the prior discussion was supposed to insinuate. Was it all a metaphor for killing himself and if so, was he to truly give an honest response?</p><p>"It's never crossed my mind," He eventually uttered, bathed breath leaving him in clouds that swirled between them two.</p><p>They were staring at each other again, Wooseok realised. The previous time they had hardly met eyes and yet now both pairs were strained on the other, bound by a force unknown, bringing upon the taller an unease in his belly and a wonderment in his mind.</p><p>"Let's go in together."</p><p>A gust of wind blew, but Wooseok was uncertain whether that was the cause of the shiver that ran along every inch of his skin and made his hairs stand on end.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Yuto offered a quivering upturn of his lips, a fine line of red reappearing in the bottom one, and then he was shifting himself onto his knees, facing the male who watched him with widening eyes.</p><p>"Come into the river with me."</p><p>His hand was clutching those of Wooseok, nestled on his legs, and the latter could have sworn he felt the palm's chill through the thick material that wrapped his own, and something jolted within him, eyes fluttering from where they touched to the eyes so near to his that suddenly had a shimmer of life in their pits of black.</p><p>"What?" Wooseok sputtered, hurrying to say something after having caught himself entranced by the way those pupils glittered, "Are you crazy?"</p><p>Yuto turned to the river, mute, but it was when he began to drag his shin across the snow and towards the riverbank's edge that Wooseok's stupor shattered and he launched himself at the male, arms encasing him in a firm hold, head tucked into the frozen flesh of his bare neck, as the soft sound of water being disturbed resounded around them.</p><p>The brunet had stilled, evidently uncomfortable by the abrupt embrace, half his left leg being tugged at by the river's rapid current.</p><p>"Wooseok," his voice was tremblant, afraid, and the younger could only hear it through the ferocious heartbeat that pulsed in his ears, "what are you doing?"</p><p>Wooseok fastened his clutch, fingers nearly digging into boney shoulders as his speeding breath heated the pale flesh beneath his cheek.</p><p>"Don't go in," He whispered, tone almost pleading, "It's cold. The current is too strong. You'll drown."</p><p>His shaky exhales filled the quiet that ensued, and a tear he did his best to ignore, forced its way down his face and dribbled onto cold skin, searing hot and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Perhaps it was due to his exhaustion, or maybe it was because he knew that Yuto truly would go in and, after all the letters he'd read and secrets he'd been told, he felt their connection too young and promising to be destroyed. It was too soon for Yuto to leave.</p><p>His mind in disarray and his limbs refusing to release the other, it was with a startling shock that a thin hand settled itself upon one of his, nimble fingers tentatively wrapping around the material that clothed Wooseok's palm, scarcely present but ever-so to the latter's heightened senses.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Yuto murmured, deep voice causing Wooseok's raging fear to ebb away, like a storm that came mid-sunny-day and left a lingering sense of looming fear once it quickly disappeared.</p><p>Wooseok shook his head, shifted his hand so that it could reciprocate Yuto's hold but stronger.</p><p>"Let's － Let's just go warm up at the diner, like planned."</p><p>And Yuto hummed, gelid thumb rubbing soothingly along the side of Wooseok's hand.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>"Alright."</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. 14: fleeting whispers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A bowl of steaming soup before each of them, a bottle of soju in the centre of the table, and their glasses both empty, drunk dry.</p><p>Wooseok ate away at his food at a pace much slower than his usual, stomach refusing the concept of eating and fingers struggling to properly hold his chopsticks with the way they still shook.</p><p>"Please eat, Yuto," He spoke in a hushed voice, dark eyes fixated on the man's hollow cheeks and sunken sockets, "It's really good."</p><p>"Hm."</p><p>Wooseok dipped his head, gazed into the shimmering broth that reflected the yellow-toned lighting of the mostly-vacant establishment. No longer shrouded by the moon and no longer hidden by the river, Yuto's appearance was one Wooseok found impossible to dismiss.</p><p>The shadows that were cast on his face were darker, his eyes seemingly made of glass, red and sore, with a black beneath them that looked like bruising. His brown hair was now the shade of gold woven into a chestnut-coloured cloth, and even if unkempt, knotted and falling loose from the band that kept the majority of it up in his usual ponytail, Wooseok thought it suited him more than it could any other being.</p><p>He was sickly pale, underweight and uncared for, like a ragged doll one adored in their childhood and abandoned soon after, a canvas of black, grey and white, with splatters of red and cuts; but Wooseok was enthralled and his heart would stutter whenever they met eyes.</p><p>"Can you tell me about yourself?"</p><p>It was his curiousity that got the better of him, the silence that was crushing him, and the way the cashier would continuously peer at them suspiciously.</p><p>Yuto haggardly lifted his sight from the chopsticks he'd been fixating, as though their weight was far too heavy and his will to do so was minimal.</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>The brash edge to the word stung and Wooseok squirmed in his seat, twiddled the sticks in his fingers and shifted his booted feet against the tiles.</p><p>"You're intriguing," He openly admitted, "I want － I would like to know more about you."</p><p>Yuto's stare remained bleak, but Wooseok took note of the way his pupils honed in on every twitch of his face and every detail on his skin, analytic, dubious.</p><p>"There's nothing about me that's interesting."</p><p>His eyebrows furrowed as his lips pursed, already preparing to counter the statement when a leaving customer strode past and Yuto shirked away, arms instantly pressing to his torso and body leaning closer to the wall, away from the man who payed him no mind. Wooseok swallowed his rebuttal to instead gaze upon the older in question.</p><p>"Are you alright?" He asked, disregarding whatever they had said before. </p><p>Yuto allowed their sights to meet for merely an infinitesmal moment prior to guiding his own back to the untouched food before him － but Wooseok, with a thudding heart and addled mind, understood that within those lifeless irises was fear. </p><p>"I don't see people much."</p><p>The younger's head dropped slightly forward, an automatic response in trying to hear the hushed words that hardly reached his ears. </p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>Full lips still a cherry red and swollen, the brunet let out a faint sigh, finally picking up his chopsticks and allowing them to enter his bowl. </p><p>"I don't leave my apartment unless necessary, or late at night when the streets are empty," Yuto explained, deciding to indulge the other with bits of information, "That's why I'm . . ."</p><p>"Afraid of people?" Wooseok attempted to offer, but he was taken aback by the monotonous chuckle that resounded from the brunet's throat, the sound akin to that of chains being rattled past midnight and of screws drilling into stone. </p><p>"I suppose so."</p><p>The younger of the pair allowed some time to pass, satisfying himself with watching as Yuto leisurely ate, mostly reluctant and doing so with great effort. </p><p>"In one of your letters you mentioned someone," Wooseok asked, after having gulped down a mouthful and licked his lips clean, "A guy who left you. Who －"</p><p>Yuto was looking at him then － no, not looking, glaring. His stare was penetrating, icy yet magma hot, burning Wooseok's skin and charring the rims of his mouth. The latter wanted to drop his gaze but found himself incapable of doing so, hostage to Yuto's eyes. </p><p>"A close friend from university," Was all he was supplied with, but Wooseok was at least grateful that he wasn't completely shut out by the man. </p><p>"I see," He replied, nodding, "I'm also in university. What do you －"</p><p>"I dropped out."</p><p>Wooseok blinked.</p><p>"Ah."</p><p>Their conversation struck a barrier, a wall that Wooseok didn't know how to climb nor knock down. He fiddled with his food, swishing what was left around inside the bowl, absent-mindedly watching the ripples in the broth like the waves of his own sea. </p><p>He wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to keep pushing the other to talk. Considering he was never around people much, perhaps he needed time to open up enough to feel comfortable with talking, and Wooseok decided he was willing to wait. </p><p>With a smile that stitched itself without his knowing, the ink-black haired male finished off his food and patted the corners of his mouth dry with the back of his hand. </p><p>"I come here often when I have to pull all-nighters," He casually stated, cutting through their festering tension and remaining undeterred by Yuto's shown lack of interest, "Most of the time I get hot chocolate or coffee, though. My friends join me too every now and then, for group study sessions."</p><p>Yuto's eyes drifted from his food and rose to meet the happy ones across from him, momentarily lingering on the honey sweet smile just below them. </p><p>"I moved here a few years ago specifically so that I could attend uni," Wooseok went on, now allowing his head to fall lax and setting his chin into the palm of his hand to hold it up, "It's quite a nice area. There's everything a student could need and there are plenty of shops too. You know, I've probably worked part-time at most of them by now."</p><p>He extended his left arm to the bottle of alcohol and tipped it over his glass, filling it to the brim prior to gulping it in one go, fully aware of the way his every movement was followed by Yuto's ever-dull eyes. It was something that oddly made him relieved and somehow proud, because finally those eyes weren't continuously distracted by the river's shimmer and the moon's face. </p><p>"It doesn't mean I get fired a lot though, I just like changing jobs after a while. The managers usually like me and tell me I'm welcome to go back to working for them if I ever need to; I haven't yet."</p><p>"Where do you work now?" </p><p>The question admittedly startled him and his sight snapped up to meet that of the older with mild surprise, heat brewing within his ribs and at the tips of his ears.</p><p>"At a stationery in one of the main roads."</p><p>Yuto let his tense shoulders ease, his expression softening as he gave a brief hum, taking in the sight of red ears with wonderment and appreciation. </p><p>"Why are you telling me about yourself?" </p><p>Wooseok's smile returned, something that made hearts take flight and comets race across black skies.</p><p>"I want you to feel comfortable around me," He shrugged, trying to quell the spark of happiness he felt at having Yuto talk to him, "The more we know about each other, the closer we can get."</p><p>"And you want us to be close?" </p><p>"As close as you'll let us be."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. －15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With whisps of fog and bathed breaths, upon the crinkle of papers and in the grey of their graphite, Yuto and Wooseok's letters continued to be taped to the sickly tree's bark, beside the river that constantly washed their whispers away.</p><p>The younger had thought of them merely exchanging phone numbers, but something about leaving messages beneath the moon and in the heart of night was unfathomably personal and romantic.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>hey yuto,</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>he'd write, gnawing on the top of his pencil when he'd pause,</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>how are you? i've had a shit day but i hope yours has been alright. it's getting colder so when you come for this letter you better be dressed warmly!</em>
    <br/>
    <em>[w</em>
    <em>]</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>And the following night again:</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>wooseok, i'm sorry about that. some days are cursed just as some lives are. my day has been the same as any other. i don't really feel the cold, that's not something to worry about.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>And their conversations would spur on as such, Wooseok telling the older of his studies, his friends, recommending him music and leaving little doodles in the corners of his notes, whilst Yuto would mostly respond and say not much else, scarcely asking a question of his own and affirming that he was as he'd always been. Wooseok wondered if that were for the better or not.</p><p>Almost a month had trickled past before they would meet up again, and Wooseok was stunned to see that it was Yuto's own wish that they did.</p><p>The younger wasn't sure whether he had gained the man's trust or not, but he took the scribbled question － that had been rewritten, seeing as how the first time it had been crossed out － as a positive sign, something that made a smile etch its way across his lips and his pulse gallop into a steadily rising beat.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>woo,</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>his mind swirled with colours when he read his name shortened; he convinced himself it was done affectionately,</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>let's meet here this saturday, like we used to do before. you can tell me about your lecturers and work in person.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>10pm. i hope you're well. </em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>And at that moment, clock ticking close to eleven, moonshine caressing his chilled skin and dancing across his eyelashes, Wooseok realised that perhaps something special had grown between them two, an odd pair to any on-looker but precious to him nonetheless. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. 16: paper bridges</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You're here."</p><p>Wooseok beamed, incapable of containing the sheer joy that overcame him at seeing the mildly up-turned edge to those bleeding lips.</p><p>"Of course I am," He replied, and for an instant he thought back to when they'd met for the second time, and he came to realise that somehow everything had changed between them, morphed into something else.</p><p>Yuto wasn't sitting that night, rather he was crouched by the the river's edge, forearms on his knees that were pressed to his chest and head now swivelled to the side to watch as Wooseok drew nearer.</p><p>It was with a frustrated sigh but a shard of concern in his stomach that Wooseok expressed his disapproval at the other's state: a ratty black zip-up, ripped jeans that seemed old enough to be genuinely torn and the same cracking sneakers that Yuto always wore. His slender neck was bare, his sharp, thin figure scarcely able to fight off the chill, his ankles purple and blue, fingers matching in colour and trembling.</p><p>"I told you to dress better," Wooseok almost grumbled, despite the way his heart leaped at the way Yuto's eyes glimmered looking up at him.</p><p>"I told you I don't really feel the cold."</p><p>The younger ignored the reply, proceeding to slide off his own thick gloves as those vacant beads of black watched in silence. </p><p>"Take them," Wooseok said, bending down and taking hold of Yuto's dry hands. They felt to be made of marble, stiff and cold, and upon noticing that Yuto could hardly bend his joints at all, Wooseok held one glove in his mouth as he fit the other down the older's right hand. </p><p>Yuto remained silent throughout the action, eyes blinking in bewilderment, flickering from his now gloved palm to the eyes that were intent on him, watching as fingers worked the second garment on with some struggle. Once both were in place, Yuto tugged his hands away and flipped them around before his eyes, as though they were a novelty and rare to see on his person.</p><p>Wooseok, however, had decided that they were not enough and gradually began unravelling the hefty scarf from around his neck, briefly shivering at the immediate loss of heat and comfort that it provided, but proceeding to drape it around Yuto's own nonetheless. It was only when the softness of the material had come into contact with frozen skin that Yuto had jerked out of his stupor, head snapping to look back at Wooseok's soothing smile as he worked the scarf around the older's neck.</p><p>Yuto didn't dare blink, sight fixated on the other's red-tipped nose and strawberry-tinted cheeks, waiting for the moment he'd reciprocate the stare. When Wooseok did, time seemingly fell still, static encasing them in a bubble of their own world, and then the brunet exhaled, and the cloud of his breath danced along Wooseok's flushed skin, warm and delicate.</p><p>"Do you feel better now?" </p><p>Yuto instinctively gave a nod, despite only having vaguely processed the words uttered to him. </p><p>"It smells of you."</p><p>He regretted allowing his tongue a mind of its own when he saw the younger dip his head, the scarlet on his flesh deepening and growing impossibly vibrant. Belatedly he dropped his sight away, letting it fall to the sparkling river, unbeknownst to him that the action made a spark of jealousy appear within Wooseok. </p><p>"How about we walk around?" He spoke up, almost desperately wanting Yuto to pay attention to him, "It's too cold to just sit still."</p><p>Yuto gave a low hum, eyes flickering to the moon and then to the stars in the younger's irises. He swallowed.</p><p>It was an odd feeling, something that sent a vibration of fear along his vertebrae and a tingle of excitement to his fingertips, and it would happen whenever the two of them would meet one another's gaze. Their sights would lock and form some sort of bond that was incredibly hard to break the longer it was held, and so with somewhat panic, Yuto tore himself away. </p><p>He shifted onto his feet, scarcely feeling the cold of the snow through the gloves he'd been given as he pressed his palm into it to stand, and Wooseok followed suit. </p><p>There came a brief moment of hesitation and then they were quietly walking, steps producing dulled crunching sounds and their breaths colliding in distant clouds. </p><p>For a few minutes Wooseok didn't know what to say nor how to say it, and he would merely gingerly peek at the other from his peripheral vision, curious to see how his concave cheeks held shadows and how his blood-speckled lips shone. </p><p>It was at that moment that a lyric crept into his mind, and suddenly he wanted to listen to a song with the man abreast him. He fiddled with his pants' pockets, fishing out his phone around which he'd wrapped his cheap earphones, and began to untangle the mess of wires whilst Yuto glanced at him inquisitively. </p><p>"There," Wooseok came to mumble upon his success, an exhale of relief leaving him, "Yuto －" The man's heart stuttered at his name, "Let's listen to some music."</p><p>The black-haired male didn't hesitate before he carefully fitted an earphone into the older's right ear and the other in his own left one, smiling as Yuto didn't flinch from his touch but looked to his hand with a lingering wonder. </p><p>Again, Yuto found himself staring as Wooseok busied himself with scrolling through the tracks on his phone, gaze focused and expression pulled serious as he considered each one. Upon finally choosing, a hum of a slow beat filtered into their heads, fogging their thoughts and dimming their concerns.</p><p>"If a song you don't like starts playing just tell me and I'll change it," Wooseok spoke, tucking the device into his pocket, diffidently throwing a quick grin the man's way. </p><p>Yuto nodded and when he felt the slight pull on the bud in his ear, he realised that they would have to walk nearer to each other for them to share the earphones. The idea terrified him, brought his limbs to quiver with anticipation, but Wooseok seemingly had no qualms about it and gradually stepped closer.</p><p>As the distance between them diminished, so did Yuto's tranquillity, for their hands would brush and their elbows would rub, and every touch would electrify the older in a way that brought a storm of panic and denial over the latter. </p><p>He had to do something to stop these feelings that had begun to torment him. Truthfully, in the days that had been passing, Wooseok had occupied his mind far too much.</p><p>"What did you mean when writing what you did in those letters?" </p><p>Yuto almost hadn't picked up on the words that drifted to him over the whisper of water and the wailing of wind. </p><p>Wooseok hadn't looked to him, whether because he was timid or simply uninterested, Yuto wasn't sure. </p><p>"I don't want to pry," the younger went on as no response came, "but I've read them and you know I have, so it's pointless for me to act clueless."</p><p>A pause.</p><p>"I meant what I said," Yuto replied, for truly, what else could he say?</p><p>The answer must have jostled something within the taller for his steps momentarily faltered and his sight swept to the other.</p><p>"You're saying you want to . . . off yourself?"</p><p>Such a term seared Wooseok's tongue, felt like acid against his teeth. </p><p>A bridge had come into view, glum and grim.</p><p>Yuto hummed in thought.</p><p>"It's more that I've fallen into a tight loop and nothing will ever change," A moment of apprehension, briefly meeting Wooseok's eyes that glistened with moonshine, "All bridges connecting this drab, gloomy island to the bright and happy mainland have been burnt. I'm stuck in this infinite cycle that can only break when I forcibly make it."</p><p>They had come to a stop then, at the bend that led onto the cursed, lonesome bridge.</p><p>The words uttered so lifelessly chilled Wooseok's bones, hardened his lungs, and he stood before the man with hands that quivered not at the cause of the cold.</p><p>He needed to say something, anything. His pulse had quickened and his mind was in chaos, but through the shades of concern and befuddlement, Wooseok came to realise that he cared perhaps far too much about the older.</p><p>"I could . . ." He began, irises dwindling their hold like a candle's flame soon to die, "I could be a bridge." </p><p>Breath caught in his throat. </p><p>"What?" </p><p>Wooseok's face glowed pink, ears plum and cheeks fuchsia, but his eyes glittered earnestly. </p><p>"You said that all the bridges around you are burnt, right? Well, what if I built you new one?" </p><p>A silence ensued, two ribcages battered by the hearts within them, multiple questions floating around them. Yuto's palms had begun to sweat from the warmth they'd been encapsulated in, his chest felt hot, his knees felt fragile.</p><p>Tense laughter ripped its way out of his mouth, blood seeping through the cuts that had re-opened on his smiling lips.</p><p>"You don't － You don't even know me."</p><p>The coarse melody did nothing to thwart Wooseok's will, and the younger took a step forward, drawing closer to Yuto who stilled at the overflow of thought and feeling.</p><p>"I don't need to know you to know that I should help you."</p><p>His words stirred the molten iron in Yuto's stomach, so silently uttered but laced with a promise that ensured nothing but oncoming suffering. </p><p>Yuto was afraid.</p><p>"Knock yourself out, but some things are meant to happen and some things are meant to be broken."</p><p>Wooseok blinked, his gaze still bound to that of the shorter, and a warm smile painted the edges of his mouth. Yuto's heart galloped but his eyes were lured to the set of lips as they came closer, until Wooseok had delicately placed them to the top of his left cheek. </p><p>"That's not up to you," Wooseok mumbled against his frozen flesh, but Yuto wanted to tell him that it was. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. －17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Twenty-four, seventy-two, one-hundred-twenty. Hours. Hours kept passing, nights kept fading, and Wooseok no longer received letters beneath the moon and by the river.</p><p>He'd leave a note and each time it was taken, but it was never replied to. He wondered if somebody other than Yuto had found them, or if his foolish little peck had driven the man away.</p><p>Wooseok was well-aware that he'd done a mistake by acting on his instinct in such an embarrassing way, but he had wanted to somehow seal his words with an act of assurance. He had no idea at the time that Yuto would dislike it as much as he did.</p><p>It was with bitten-nails and a stiff hand that Wooseok sat to scribble down another note he promised would be his last should Yuto not answer.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>hey yuto,</em>
    <br/>
    <em>i hope you're doing alright. i'm sorry about</em>
    <br/>
    <em>what i did by the bridge, i wasn't thinking</em>
    <br/>
    <em>clearly. please forgive me. it's alright if</em>
    <br/>
    <em>you don't though. write to me if you</em>
    <br/>
    <em>want to, i'd like to keep in touch. </em>
    <br/>
    <em>[w]</em>
  </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. －18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The corners were dark, but the walls were darker. The window had remained unopened, its navy curtains tightly drawn. CD's had cascaded onto the floor during one of his breakdowns, paint tubes squeezed and staining the carpet with colours that went unseen in the darkness. A rope dangled from the beam. That same, solitary beam that would watch as Yuto would put a scrap of stale food in his mouth once in a while and lie in bed, allowing his body to waste.</p><p>His hair remained unwashed, greased strands that twirled beside his head across the pillow. His voice remained trapped behind sealed lips and a hardened jaw.</p><p>The kiss he'd been given upon his cheek festered in his mind like a slow worsening disease for days, filling him with a desire to be held and loved, understood and accepted.</p><p>Such a desire terrified him, its power too immense and soon overwhelming.</p><p>The promise that had been made to help him caused his skin to crawl and itch, his insides contorting with fear of change and the refusal of such.</p><p>He couldn't let it happen. Not after everything. <br/>No matter what Wooseok would do, nothing would get back everything Yuto had lost and he didn't want to learn to live without them.</p><p>His quivering hold on the wrinkled slip of paper in his lap fastened, the blunt pencil in his hand being squeezed.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>woo, </em>
    <br/>
    <em>i forgive you. don't think about it. </em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>A moment of apprehension.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>i would also like to keep in touch. i'll be gone</em>
    <br/>
    <em>for a while though. your next letter will be the</em>
    <br/>
    <em>last i'll get to read for some time. </em>
    <br/>
    <em>_y</em>
  </p>
</div><p><br/>He couldn't bring himself to write anything else.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. －19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>yuto,</em>
    <br/>
    <em>i'm glad you're not upset with me.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>i was worried i'd ruined what we have.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>have you been okay?</em>
    <br/>
    <em>where will you be going? for how long</em>
    <br/>
    <em>will you be gone? </em>
    <br/>
    <em>i hope you have a safe trip.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>since this will be my last message to you</em>
    <br/>
    <em>for a while, i'd like to wish you the best!</em>
    <br/>
    <em>stay strong even when i'm not going to be</em>
    <br/>
    <em>by your side. please take care of yourself</em>
    <br/>
    <em>and eat well. </em>
    <br/>
    <em>also, leave me a letter when you come</em>
    <br/>
    <em>back from your trip so that we can</em>
    <br/>
    <em>meet up again!</em>
    <br/>
    <em>[w]</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>p.s. i never got to ask, but since this is</em>
    <br/>
    <em>what brought us together i will now:</em>
    <br/>
    <em>why did you tape letters that no one</em>
    <br/>
    <em>would read to a dying tree? </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>woo,</em>
    <br/>
    <em>i'll never be upset with you. i've been as</em>
    <br/>
    <em>i've always been.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>i'll be going quite far away. it will be a</em>
    <br/>
    <em>while before i come back. </em>
    <br/>
    <em>thank you for being so sweet, woo.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>i hope you'll also take care of yourself</em>
    <br/>
    <em>after i'm gone. be happy and work hard.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>good luck with graduating and</em>
    <br/>
    <em>live your life well.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>_yuto </em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>p.s. you read them, didn't you?</em>
  </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. end.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stars speckled the black sky, fell from their high thrones to kiss a snow white expanse of flesh that glimmered at their touch. Chilled water lovingly lapped at a torso unmoving, tugged at the constricting clothing that clung to limp limbs. Hair spiralled out around a head, twirled and long like coloured whisps of smoke.</p><p>Lungs brimming with melted ice, skin blotched purple and blue from the low temperature it had been in for a long while, unseeing eyes filled with the soothing smile of the distant moon.</p><p>The corpse was carried far from the bridge, the currents bringing it ashore farther along the riverbank.</p><p>The dying tree was far away. The letter taped to it was far away. Yuto had gone far away.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>dear moon,</em>
    <br/>
    <em>thank you for being a constant in my life.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>thank you for bringing wooseok to me.</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>woo,</em>
    <br/>
    <em>i'm sorry i dragged you into my own mess.</em>
    <br/>
    <em>i'm forcing you to break your word because i</em>
    <br/>
    <em>don't want to be saved. not everything has to</em>
    <br/>
    <em>be fixed, some things just have to start anew. </em>
    <br/>
    <em>_yuto</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>The moon cried as it departed and bridges crumbled with the rising sun.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>enjoyed writing this and i<br/>(oddly enough) quite like how it<br/>turned out. i hope it was a decent read<br/>stay happy x</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>